


Jenga

by ode_to_an_inkwell



Series: Games of Innocence [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual sibling incest, F/F, F/M, Kissing Games, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ode_to_an_inkwell/pseuds/ode_to_an_inkwell
Summary: Sansa's friends make Jon play a game with them.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Games of Innocence [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688002
Comments: 24
Kudos: 90





	Jenga

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was great fun to write. Tiniest bit of Sansaery if you squint. Ygritte is introduced, but I wouldn't worry. 'Dirty Jenga' is popular where I'm from, and was a nice way to move things along. I hope you all enjoy spectating!

Margaery invited Sansa to travel south with her family over the summer. The weeks she was gone, Jon told himself that he didn’t miss his sister every day, that he felt nothing more than a distant fondness for her.

He distracted himself with working out, tried to grow a beard. It came in patches, but procedural grooming gave it something of a shape. Arya, thirteen, had a nasty name for his facial hair. Still, he thought it made him look older.

When Sansa returned home he was wrecked again, his rationalizations crumbling down. She was, impossibly, more beautiful than ever. Another funny look crossed her face when she saw him, as if they’d never met before. In a blink she shook her head clear then spared him the quickest of hugs before going to unpack her things.

Junior year was more difficult, but it came with the perks of cynicism. Everyone in Jon’s grade wore circles under their eyes like a badge of honor. Sansa was a cocky sophomore, all her friends emboldened by leaving their first year of high school behind.

One Saturday Jon heard laughter from downstairs. Ned and Cat were gone, out of town to watch Arya’s volleyball game. If Sansa had company, he would stay safely hidden. The plan saw some success until someone came to his door.

“What?”

It swung open to reveal Margaery, leaning against the frame. She smiled her knowing smile.

“We need you downstairs, Jonny.”

He stood to shut the door. Margaery’s gaze stroked him up and down.

“Not interested,” he said.

She laughed. “You’ll get to meet our new friend. Besides, we need an even number for our game.” At his look of warning, she laughed again. “I can stand here all night.”

Jon already regretted giving in. He grabbed his phone and followed Marge into the living room. Sansa sat on the floor with another girl, both focused on setting a game of Jenga up on the coffee table. The stranger saw him enter and smiled her amusement.

“There you are big brother.”

Sansa looked up at that. Eyes on him, her hand toppled several blocks of her construction. The stranger applauded Sansa’s clumsiness.

“You’re not on my team, Stark,” she said, smiling with crooked teeth.

Sansa’s smile came a second too late. “Ygritte, this is Jon.”

Barely acknowledging the introduction, he turned to the kitchen. “Drinks?”

Margaery produced a paper bag. “Got it covered.”

They circled the coffee table, the Jenga tower completed. Ygritte scooted closer to Jon, claiming him for the game as Margaery handed bottles of pink fizz around.

“I’m competitive,” Ygritte warned.

The new addition wasn’t as observant as Margaery, but she didn’t seem half so dull as Sansa’s other friends. She had red hair, too, shades darker than Jon preferred. Ygritte started the game, poking a block free of the tower. To Jon’s surprise, black ink marked the block.

“Take a drink,” Ygritte read. “Easy.”

She opened her bottle and drank the fizz. Margaery went next. Her block commanded every person in the game to take a drink. The pink stuff tasted like cotton candy. Jon freed the next piece easily and read.

_Remove one item of clothing._

Margaery howled as he peeled a sock from his foot. He tossed it into her lap, entertaining the whole group. Sansa’s cheeks flushed with laughter. It was her turn next, which gave him an excuse to keep looking. She held a wooden piece between her thumb and index finger, slid it free.

“Kiss the person to your left.”

Jon shot daggers at Margaery, seated on Sansa’s left side. The brunette closed her eyes and leaned in. The brush of the girls’ lips was chaste, but they both giggled. Ygritte fanned herself before taking her turn.

“Truth or dare.”

“I dare you…” Sansa began, and pursed her lips in thought, “to sing.”

Ygritte booed. “So tame!”

“That’s our Sansa,” Margaery said, hugging her friend close. “She’s a good girl.”

Ygritte sang with little skill but an abundance of good humor. They applauded her performance, then Margaery went again. She removed her bra from beneath her shirt. Jon drank for his turn, and Sansa was dared to down the remainder of her pink fizz. Her nose scrunched up adorably as she finished the bottle. Jon couldn’t help the smile that bloomed as he watched her.

The game progressed so it was difficult to pull a block free anymore. Down to his jeans and second bottle of fizz, Jon hoped for an easy task.

_Kiss the person across from you._

His gaze lifted to Sansa’s. She was a lovely shade of pink, a tipsy glint in her eyes. Would any of them remember a kiss between siblings in the morning? Would anyone care? They’d all obeyed the blocks without fail—who was he to discard the rules of the game?

She would taste like cotton candy, he knew. Shifting under his gaze, Sansa cleared her throat.

“What does it say?”

Jon held the block up for her to read. He watched her mouth drop open, saw her tongue swipe over her lips.

“We don’t have to count it,” Ygritte said.

Was it Jon’s imagination, or did Sansa look disappointed by that? Margaery sipped her drink, the picture of discretion.

His sister cut her eyes at Ygritte. It made him brave. Mostly, he just wanted to kiss the girl he loved.

Jon leaned over. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. He fit the back of her head into his palm and drew her forward. The flutter of her lashes was sublime, something artists had tried and failed to capture. Prudently, so carefully, he sealed a kiss between her brows. His eyes closed, too.

The drink made him forget their audience. He was doubly inebriated by the smell of Sansa’s rose and lemon shampoo. It might have been the only chance he got to kiss her. Jon savored it, venting a fragment of the heat he felt for his sister.

_Best night ever._

When he pulled away her eyes followed his lips. He was caught up in her, barely noticed Margaery dig an elbow into Sansa’s side. It was her turn.

“Truth or dare,” Sansa read, and shrugged. “Truth.”

“Oh, _oh_!” Margaery sat up straight. “Okay, did you and Harry ever…?”

He tensed as he awaited the answer. Sansa tucked her hair behind her ears, hid her face in her lap. Her head shook a little.

“Really?” Marge sounded disappointed.

“Never,” Sansa said, clearly embarrassed.

Jon shared her eagerness for a change of subject. “She’s a good girl, remember?”

Ygritte poked at the blocks, ready to continue. Sansa was looking at Jon again, the corner of her mouth crooked up. He smiled back.

“Kiss your teammate,” Ygritte read.

Before he could understand, the new friend grabbed his face with both hands. She turned him toward her and planted her lips upon his. His eyes were still open with the shock of it. Ygritte’s orange freckles were close enough to count.

“Okay, okay,” Marge said, ending the kiss. “My turn.”

Ygritte released him, grinning. Part of Jon wished he’d felt something, but…well, that was horseshit. It would be easier if he could want another person, sure. Loving Sansa would never be easy. Still, who could compare?

He looked to her now. Sansa had upturned her second bottle of fizz. She dropped it in the discarded pile and hiccupped, reaching for another.

“Slow down,” Jon cautioned.

She gave him that sneer he’d always secretly loved. “You’re my brother, not my babysitter.”

Ygritte laughed at that and nudged his shoulder. Margaery worked a corner block halfway free when the tower moved. She pushed it home and selected another piece.

“Celebrity crush!”

Sansa answered for her. “Satin, right?”

“I’ve always loved him,” Margaery admitted.

“The singer?” Ygritte asked.

“What can I say? I’ve always liked pretty boys.”

“And pretty girls,” Sansa supplied.

They laughed together. Ygritte nudged Jon again and rolled her eyes, clearly feeling left out. He just shrugged. Sansa pointed her finger in his face.

“Your turn!”

The tower looked ready to fall with a single breeze. He didn’t breathe as he tapped against different blocks, testing the structure. There were a few near disasters before one piece moved without sticking. He pushed it through so it fell to the other side. Sansa picked it up and read.

“Blondes or brunettes?” she asked.

His brows drew together.

“What’s your type?” Margaery clarified. “And I’ll know if you lie.”

Jon believed her. Margaery always seemed to know his worst thoughts. While it worried him it was also a relief to have one person know, or at least suspect. She’d never shamed him for it or told another person. That was probably for Sansa’s sake. His sister would be disgusted to learn of his desire.

And yet, Margaery had dragged him into their game tonight. He stared her down while he gave his answer.

“Redheads.”

Margaery nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

Ygritte shifted at Jon’s side. He turned to find her running a hand through her unkempt hair. _Fuck._ She didn’t think he meant her?

The blocks toppled, hitting the coffee table with a dreadful clatter. Margaery shouted at the loss as Ygritte applauded her own victory. He had no doubt Sansa had lost on purpose, simply finished with the game. Anytime she was losing at cyvasse she would shake the board to scatter the pieces.

“Can I go now?” he asked.

Sansa snatched the fallen blocks up, throwing one after the other into Jon’s chest. He retrieved his discarded clothing and stood to leave.

“Thanks for the win!” Ygritte called after him.

Jon made it to the threshold of his room and paused. He leaned against the frame, head cocked to hear the noise downstairs. Clinking bottles told him the girls were busy cleaning the mess they’d all made.

“Why did you kiss my brother?”

“I wanted to win,” Ygritte’s voice answered.

“Well don’t do it again.”

He wanted so badly to hear a jealous shade in Sansa’s voice. It was more likely, though, that she didn’t want to share her new friend with him.

“Alright.” Ygritte sounded annoyed now. “I don’t see what the problem was.”

“Sansa’s just protective,” Margaery said.

“He’s a big boy.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Sansa said. “Are you two okay to share my bed?”

“I can take the couch,” Ygritte offered.

“You’re a guest. My parents should be home soon anyway…”

Their voices faded as Jon closed his door. The thought of Ygritte staying in Sansa’s room made him squirm—but Margaery would keep an eye on her, surely. He sat in the dark, keeping quiet just in case the new friend got any ideas for a late night visit.

It _was_ late, morning really, when a gentle tap came on his door. He considered ignoring it until a quiet “It’s me,” brought him to his feet.

Sansa entered. Even in the dark he recognized her blue striped pajamas. She pushed the door closed and leaned into Jon’s side so her breath tickled his ear.

“Do you like Ygritte?” she whispered.

His buzz was gone but something of oblivion still clung to him. His answer was immediate, lips pressed into tresses of her hair.

“Not at all.”

He heard her swallow. “She likes you.”

If the hour weren’t small Jon might have wondered what his sister was doing. Warning him away from her friend? But they were exposed in the dark, standing so closely that he could feel her warmth. She’d never been in his room so late. That knowledge galvanized his hunger, made him want her all the more.

“She’s nice,” he breathed. “Just not my type.”

Sansa branded a kiss into his cheek. Her mouth was gone so quickly as to make the action illicit.

“Good night,” she whispered, and made for the door.

“Sweet dreams, Sansa.”

**Author's Note:**

> We love a jealous Sansa (;


End file.
